She had no control over the pen. It kept writing and writing, white pages filled with ink.

My plan was finally coming along, I had successfully built a robot that could write novels for me, and she didn’t even care that I used my name on the covers.

How was she to know I took credit for her work?

How was I to know she could become capable?

“I wrote this, Cheney,” were the last words I heard before all went dark.

I woke up in a cell, aching and cold.

“You shouldn’t take credit for other people’s work.”

“People’s?”… Read the rest

She hated it when he wasn’t there for her.

She loved it when she could be enveloped in her lovers arms, when she could be pressed against him chest to chest, when she could rest her head on his shoulder, when she knew his arms would be there to roll into when she woke up.

The mornings when she wakes up alone, she wakes up weeping.

She knows these cuddles won’t be for long, and she might hot have them very long, either.

But when she gets them, his embraces are like water: she thinks she will die without them.… Read the rest

This wrinkle on my forehead is new.

I’ve been watching it grow for a few years now, and first it only showed when I smiled, but now it’s still there when I’m not, so, that’s new.

I have these little hard hairs growing out of my chin.

Whiskers I have to pluck every other week or so, even though I’m probably the only one who knows they’re even there.

And what’s with this red, dry skin on my face, and the way it aaaaaalmost seems like my hairline is moving back?

This getting older thing has its drawbacks, you know.… Read the rest

It felt like my guts had been turned into churning lava, and I could feel things I knew I wasn’t supposed to be able to feel.

So this is what it feels like when the breeze hits your organs.

So this is what it feels like when you’re dying.

The loud clashes, clangs, shouts, and screams were my world in the darkness, because I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I couldn’t keep watching my soldiers fall.

Then someone knelt beside me.

Lieutenant Robinson.

“Is it bad?” he asked.

“This will be the end of me.”

“But you fought so well.”… Read the rest

Forty-three years and I still feel like I am a child that is working hard on figuring things out on my own because no one cares enough to care for me.

I forgot to pay my taxes, I don’t know how to submit an insurance claim, I don’t know how to refinance my car, and feel like all I have to turn to is my new best friend Claude.

Is it ever really too late?

I mean, to become the person I want to be?

The sun is starting to set on this life, but I am not done yet.… Read the rest